


It Takes Two

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coughing, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Fever Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Whump, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Sneezing, Trials, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Dean is sick right when Sam is suffering after the first two trials. He has to negotiate between being around enough that he can make sure that Sam is okay, and not getting his brother sick on top of everything else.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. Keeping Distance

Harsh, wet, hacking coughs awoke Dean in the bunker. He was about to jump up when he realized how terrible he actually felt. Everything ached deep within his bones as if a hammer had been tapping on them all night. His head felt slightly fuzzy, not to mention the extreme soreness of his throat. It was as if someone rubbed his throat with sandpaper or something like that.

Yep, Dean Winchester was sick. 

It couldn't have come at a worse time. Sam had been suffering through the first two Trials and Dean hadn't seen Sam this sick in his life. He had extreme fever spikes and a dreadful and bloody cough. No cough was supposed to bring up blood no matter how bad. That horrified Dean to no end.

However, Sam kept reassuring him that it was just part of the Trials and that they were 'purifying' him. Dean hated the sound of that. But, he couldn't do anything about it. Sam had agreed to do the Trials and he couldn't get out of them or he would die. Yet, if he completed the Trials then he would also die. It was a lose-lose scenario and both Winchesters knew it.

The sound of coughing was relentless from the kitchen area. Dean knew that he couldn't push it away any longer. After all, Sam wouldn't take care of himself unless Dean did it for him. He wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink, and would just research the third trial until he passed out from a fever spike. Dean couldn't allow his brother to go on like this. He just hadn't thought of a solution to it yet. 

Eventually he twisted on the bed and felt his shoulder crack while the rest of his body groaned with aches and pains. It was normal in their line of work, but he knew that it was a little bit stronger than normal. That suggested pain from a low grade fever.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his arms over his head in a decent stretch. He yawned loudly before he grabbed his socks that he had discarded from the previous night. He threw them on before he rose to his feet. He felt his legs nearly buckle and he had to grab onto the edge of the bed to steady himself. He slowly let go and breathed heavily as he felt is chest crackle and whistle as if there was deep gunk starting to collect in there. 

Dean was hoping that would be all there was. However, when he felt the deep featherlike tickle in the back of his sinuses he sucked in a heavy breath as he lifted his hands to cup them over his face. He felt his sinuses open and his nostrils flare with his breath heaving in his chest. He suddenly pitched forward and felt his left knee buckle. 

"Huh'TcSHsHSEw! Huh'tcSHsHSeW! Hut'TcsHsSHew!"

Dean sucked in a heavy breath through his nose and shook his head to clear it. That had left him dizzy and feeling slightly worse than before. He tried to breathe evenly as his eyes jammed shut. He longed for that to stop the dizziness.

When it did finally pass Dean knew that he would need tissues and a lot of them. He didn't keep any in his room since he couldn't remember the last time he got sick. In fact, he never really considered using tissues. But, with Sam already being sick and his immune system shot to Hell, it was probably best that he actually use something sort of sanitary for the time being. 

Dean managed to jump back to his feet and made his way to the door. He opened it slightly and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard more desperate coughing. Then he heard Sam vomit and he was sure that it had been all blood. That was the only thing that Sam had in his system since he had almost stopped eating entirely. 

Dean tried to ignore that as he made his way to the other bathroom right across from his room. He staggered in and closed the door behind him. He was tempted to lock it, but Sam was so weak that he probably couldn't have walked to this bathroom if he tried. Not that he would ever mention that to Sam. Sam would be pissed.

Dean quickly found the tissues on the edge of the sink. He pulled out about ten and then folded them over his nose. He blew his nose with a honk and felt his nose empty. It wasn't enough.

He crumpled them up and threw them away. Once he was finished he grabbed more tissues and repeated the entire process over again. Afterwards he was just left with a wetness around his nostrils. He sniffled again and made his way to the toilet. He did his business and washed his hands as he debated about what to do next.

He could take a shower, but he was sure that it would probably cause him to pass out. Instead he splashed some cold water on his face and felt it start to run down his arms. He shivered and all he wanted to do was just climb into bed again.

While he tried to think about what to do next, he felt the tickle spread once more. He rushed for the tissues out of necessity and brought it to his flaring nostrils before he sucked in a massive breath. "Huh'TcsHSHShew! Huh'TCsHShShew! Huh'TcSHsHSeW!"

Once Dean was finished he went through the entire process of blowing his nose with multiple tissues. He then forced himself to wash his hands again. Anything to keep the germs away from Sam. If Sam wasn't as sick as he was then he wouldn't have done this. But, anything for Sam. 

Speaking of Sam....

The coughing grew louder and Dean wondered how long Sam could keep this up before he passed out. It sounded as if Sam was forcing the coughing this time. Dean had no idea what his brother could possibly be doing, but he had coughed up blood before and it wasn't pleasant. He was sure that Sam wasn't enjoying this one bit. 

It was time to for Dean to swallow his own pain and illness and help his brother with his. It was what Dean did best. He just wished that this was something that he could fix.


	2. A Cough Is Never Just A Cough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avoidance can only work for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains mentions of blood and the coughing up of blood. If that's not your thing I would suggest not reading this chapter! Thanks!

Sam bowed forward and coughed painfully. Blood spurted from his mouth and into his cupped hand. He usually tried to keep tissues or a bowl by his bed to spit into for cases like this. Sometimes he forgot or ran out of tissues and then he had to use his hand or pieces of clothing. His hand was just easier and quicker to find. 

Sam felt his chest clench once more and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. After a few moments, the coughing started up again and this time he was able to clamp both of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. He breathed heavily as he pitched forward with the liquid coughs, entire body rattling. He felt the blood jump into the back of his throat as he spat the stringy blood and mucus into his hands. It was beyond gross, yet he was growing used to it. 

Sam slumped back against the bed with his eyes almost rolling up into his head. He was beyond tired and yet he couldn't sleep. The coughing always kept him up and the best that he could do was get maybe a half an hour of sleep before he was forced to wake up with the feeling of blood in the back of his throat and the need to cough. 

What Sam desperately wanted was Dean. However, he couldn't cry out to his brother anymore or he would lapse into a hacking fit that would last for minutes at a time. Dean would then freak out and it would do little good to either of them. That was why Sam would usually just suffer in silence and wait for his brother to hear him coughing and come to get them. That hadn't happened yet, though. It wasn't like Dean to just ignore him like this.

Sam decided to go find him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, muscles aching deeply, radiating into his bones. When he stood up, he promptly collapsed. He gasped in surprise as he panted heavily in an effort to catch himself, failing miserably. He moaned as he thought about the effort that it would take to haul himself back up to the bed. He ignored it as he just rested his head on the cool ground and breathed heavily through his open mouth.

There was a thundering of feet as Dean came into the room. He held his breath as he looked down at his brother. "Sam," Dean gasped. 

Sam looked upwards and felt his face flush in embarrassment. "I'm okay," Sam croaked before he felt his chest start to heave. He tried to cough, but it was difficult when he was laying down. 

Dean immediately crouched to his side and rested a hand on the small of his back. He then reached around him and pulled him upward into sitting position. He wrapped an arm around him and held him upright so that he couldn't fall back down. Sam was so weak and frail that a breeze could take him down at this rate. 

"Okay, Sammy. Calm down," chided Dean as he rubbed his thumb up and down Sam's spine. "Just breathe and then cough for me." 

"Into what," Sam croaked as he felt blood filling his throat. 

Dean looked around desperately, slowly pulling a bit away from Sam as he yanked off his over shirt. He held it to his brother's mouth and felt him shuddering against him. "Okay, Sammy. Just cough." 

"Your shirt," Sam continued to suppress coughs as he was about to swallow the blood into his stomach.

Dean shook his head as he patted hard on Sam's back. "No, don't you dare. If you do then you're going to just make yourself sick. You're not supposed to have blood in your stomach or lungs for that matter." 

Sam didn't have time to say anything else. He coughed heavily as blood pooled from his mouth. It fell into the shirt and Dean saw the blood with swirls of mucus in it. He tried not to grimace as he wiped a bit at the corners of Sam's mouth to dry them.

"That's good, kiddo. Good. Breathe through it and cough more if you need to," Dean chided as he gave Sam a tiny squeeze to let him know that he was still there. 

Sam nodded slowly as he coughed once more. The blood rose in his throat, eyes watering thanks to the discomfort. He then spit the remainder into Dean's shirt while Dean tried to clean him up to the best of his ability. Sam wasn't helping too much. His head was slumped onto Dean's shoulder and Dean sighed heavily, blinking his eyes furiously. 

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you," Dean whispered before he turned his head into his shoulder and stifled a few coughs of his own. 

Sam barely took notice as he struggled to take in a full and complete breath. It was as if someone was sitting on his lungs and had filled it with heavy liquid. "N-No, "he stammered as he swallowed heavily and felt his throat burn as the remainder of the blood slid down his throat and into his stomach. He shivered harshly and looked away.

"Good, because I can't have you doing that on me," Dean told him before his breath started to tamper off. At first Sam thought that Dean was yawning until Dean lifted his elbow and turned as far away from Sam as he could with Sam still rested on his shoulder.

"Huh'TcsHsSHew! Huh'tcsHsSHew! Huh'TcSHsSHew!"

Sam was a bit taken back by the sound. He mumbled a bit before he rested a hand on Dean's chest. "Bless you," he mumbled quietly as he pushed at the corner of his mouth as a small trickle of blood trickled out.

Dean nodded slowly as he sniffed heavily. He turned back to Sam and saw him starting to nod off. "Sam? Sam! Sam, hey, stay awake for me for a little bit, okay? Let's get you back to bed," Dean instructed as he rose to his feet while he continued to grab hold of Sam.

Anger burned in Sam's eyes with a mix of determination. He pushed Dean slightly away as he took a staggering step forward. "I can do it," he told him defiantly.

Dean didn't say anything as Sam dragged himself back to his bed. He slumped onto it and rested his head against the headboard. He breathed loudly through his mouth and it was then that Dean noticed how loud and crackling Sam's lungs sounded when he breathed. Dean was sure that he couldn't last too much longer in this condition before his body gave out.

However, Dean had his own problems. 

"Huh'TcsHSHew! Huh'TcsHSHew! Huh'TcSHSHEw!"

Sam opened one eye and it appeared to take a lot of effort. He clamped his mouth shut as he scrutinized his brother as much as he possibly could. "Bless you again," Sam offered. 

"Thanks, Sabby," Dean snuffled as he rubbed his wrist under his runny nose. "Ugh, sorry."

Sam raised an eyebrow and even that looked tiresome. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"I'm fine, Sam. It's you that I'm worried about. I think that you should rest here while I make some breakfast, okay," Dean urged.

Sam didn't say anything as he watched his brother walk over to him. Dean rested a hand on Sam's forehead to check for fever before he turned away and walked toward the door, almost slumping down against the outside of the door as soon as he walked out of the room. He rubbed his hand against the side of his face and forced himself out of the hallway and down to the kitchen. 

One hour in the day down and only twenty three hours left.


	3. Tomato Rice Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam begins to put the pieces together of what might be wrong with his big brother.

Dean coughed weakly as he started to make some grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. He knew that it would be easy on Sam's stomach and probably his own. He wasn't feeling queasy at all yet, but he wouldn't put it past himself yet to strike with little to no warning. He decided that it would be best to make chicken noodle soup for both of them since it was probably more nutritional than tomato.

When he had finished making everything, he compiled two identical plates with a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of chicken noodle soup to match. He set it on a tray with two bottles of water. He needed to keep Sam as hydrated as possible while Sam was still coughing up blood. Also with the way that his body temperature was fluctuating was also cause for concern. 

"Huh'TcSHsHS! Huh'TcsHsHS! Huh'ItcsHsHs!" 

It was also more than frustrating that his own body would choose now to betray him. Now when he needed to help take care of his brother. Sam needed him. He couldn't just help Sam when he was so sick himself. He just couldn't do much good when he was like this.

He just couldn't give up, though, and he wouldn't for Sam's case. He would help out as much as possible, but he wouldn't get too involved in case Sam would catch his cold. He just hoped that Sam wouldn't catch wind of any of it. 

Once Dean had blown his nose and washed his hands again, he picked up the tray and tried to balance it while he rubbed the side of his hand against his ticklish nose. He walked over to Sam's room and heard Sam breathing loudly through his mouth. It sounded as if he was choking on all the blood in his throat while he slept. It terrified Dean to no end to hear his brother make noises like that. 

Luckily, Dean was about to rouse Sam and that may help with his breathing. 

Dean prodded his shoulder and Sam let out a strange gasp before he turned frantically over to look at his brother in surprise. "Dean," Sam questioned, voice crackling. 

"Rise and shine, sunshine. I got food for you. Hope you're hungry," Dean told him as cheerily as he possibly could manage while trying not to seem too fake. 

Sam blinked his eyes in exhaustion as he looked at his brother. He opened his mouth to speak when Dean saw a trickle of blood on his teeth. It started to run down from the corner of his mouth down his cheek and Dean instantly leaned forward and helped Sam prop himself the rest of the way up while discarding their tray of food on the floor. He grabbed the trash bin and thrust it under Sam's chin.

"Okay, Sammy. Cough," chided Dean as he ran his hands up and down Sam's shoulders in an effort to warm him up before he thrust cupped hands against Sam's back. Sam sucked in a heavy breath in surprise and tried to tell Dean to stop before he felt his lungs open and he pitched forward once more. 

"That's it, Sammy. Just cough," he urged as he ran his fingers through Sam's hair. It was clumped in sweat and Dean wondered if it would be too awkward to urge Sam to take a shower. 

Sam sputtered and gagged on the blood in his throat, barely managing to spit it up into the trash bin. It seemed to catch in his throat before he swallowed the rest of it down. Once he was finished he looked to his brother with tears in his eyes.

Dean knew that it was difficult on his brother and he didn't blame him for getting emotional. He just wished that he could take care of his brother better. He felt like an absolute failure. However, he also knew that he couldn't let it show. He had to show his brother that he wasn't as freaked out as he felt on the inside. 

"It's alright, Sammy. Shhh. Shhh....it's okay," Dean chided as he rubbed Sam's back as gently as possible. He didn't want to force him to cough since it seemed like the coughing fits had taken a lot out of him. 

"Hurts," Sam managed to explain as he lifted a hand and weakly pressed it against his chest. "Hurts."

"I know, Sammy. Don't force it," Dean told him as he lowered his hand from his chest and tried to hold it tight in his own hand. Anything to force Sam to think about something else. 

Suddenly, he felt a tickle rising in his sinuses. Dean wrinkled his nose as he turned his head into his left shoulder so that he didn't need to release Sam's hands from his own.

"Huh'TcsHsHw! Hut'TCsHSSHew! Huh'TcsHsSHew!"

Sam drew in a crackling breath as he tried to meet his brother's gaze. "Bless.....You."

It appeared to take all of Sam's energy to just manage those two simple words. Dean frowned as he sniffed heavily and shook his head at his brother. "Okay, but you don't need to bless me anymore. I got it. Save your breath."

Sam said nothing as Dean painfully reached down to pull the tray onto his lap. He was extremely careful not to spill the scolding hot soup. "Okay, time to eat," he told him gently. 

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust at the food. "No," he argued as he lifted a hand to cough into roughly. Dean saw a small speckling of blood, but nothing too major. He still didn't like the look of it, though.

"Come on, Sammy. You have to eat a little bit to keep your strength up. I'll eat with you. Just a few bites," Dean urged as he took an impressive bite from his grilled cheese sandwich. 

Sam looked down at it before he glanced at his brother. He turned back to the food and almost moaned. "Can't taste it," Sam told him lightly. "Tastes like blood."

"Then just pretend you know what it takes like," Dean mumbled around another bite of his own grilled cheese. If Sam didn't hurry this up Dean would probably end up eating Sam's sandwich as well. "Just try for me. Or at least eat some soup."

Sam reluctantly picked up the spoon. His hand shook like a leaf in the wind while soup started to overflow over the spoon and splatter against the tray. By the time he lifted the spoon halfway the spoon was completely empty. He glanced over to Dean with a crestfallen expression on his face. He looked away so that Dean couldn't tell how frustrating it was making him.

Dean sniffled before he took the spoon from Sam and dipped it in the liquid. He lifted it up to Sam's lips, chunks of chicken and noodle almost spilling out over the sides. "It's oaky," he chided gently as he tried to make Sam feel a little less embarrassed at being fed. "Just pretend I'm not here."

It was rather difficult for Sam to do when Dean was literally spoon feeding him like he was a baby. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter, though. He reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed Dean to tip the soup into his mouth. The warm broth seemed to coat his throat and it instantly made his throat feel a little better and he relaxed. 

"See, not so bad," Dean croaked as he rubbed a hand over the side of his own sweaty face. "Just a few more bites and then I'll let you sleep."

Sure enough, they carried on in silence with Dean taking a few bites while he helped Sam with his meal. Once Sam had eaten half of his soup he refused anymore. Dean finished his meal and half of Sam's before he set the tray aside and pulled Sam's sweaty hair away from around his face.

"You good," Dean asked before he sucked in a desperate breath. He looked away sharply as he tried to pull as far away from Sam he could muster aside from actually falling from the bed. 

"Huh'TcsHsSHew! Huh'TcsHsSHShew! Huh'ItcSHsHSew!"

Sure enough, Sam didn't bless him, but he did look at him in severe worry. He knew that something was up with his brother, but he was too weak to actually do much about it and it bothered him to no end.

"Okay, Sam. Get some rest and I'll check on you in a little bit, okay," Dean told him as he gave his little brother a small pat on the shoulder before he rose to his feet from the bed and nearly fell. 

"Okay," whispered Sam so quietly that Dean barely heard him. 

Dean forced a smile as he grabbed the side of the door when he made it that far and slightly closed it. He left it open enough so that he could hear if Sam needed anything.

He just wished that this would pass and fast.


	4. Reconciliation.....Or Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean will do whatever he can to take care of Sam, but all Sam wants is his brother close.

Dean sat at the table with a steaming mug in front of him. His fingers were curled around his mug as he allowed the steam to release the congestion in his nose. He tried to breathe in the steam when he felt it loosen enough for a tickle to emerge that signaled an oncoming, messy sneeze.

Dean rushed to grab a handful of paper towels and shoved them against the undersides of his twitching nose just in time.

"Huh'TchsHsSHew! Huh'ItcSHShew! Huh'TcsHsSHew!" 

Dean blew his nose with the final sneeze and finally felt some air move through his nose. He straightened as he blinked the dazed expression from his face. He was starting to feel disoriented and dizzy. He knew that he had to keep up, though. He couldn't just leave Sam high and dry when Sam needed him the most. 

Dean was just about to head to his room to maybe nap when he heard a thud. Immediately he switched to big brother mode and rushed forward as if he wasn't sick and aching all over. 

He swung the door open and saw his brother laying on his stomach with his legs slightly splayed. He kneeled down beside his brother and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. 

To his relief, Sam's head actually lifted up. He looked up at Dean with embarrassment, a sheen of green on his face. "Dean," he mumbled.

"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing," Dean chided as he tried to keep the panic from rising into his throat.

Sam lifted a tired hand and pointed toward the door before he answered n a small croak. "Bathroom," he confessed tiredly.

Dean held his breath. He didn't think that this was going to be this bad this fast. He didn't mind helping his brother, but he knew that this was probably going to damage his dignity to no end. 

"I'm going to help you up and to the bathroom, okay," Dean chided as he rubbed a hand between Sam’s shoulder blades to try and rouse him. 

Sam nodded sleepily as he tried to lift a leg up. It immediately fell back down and Sam muttered a swear word under his breath. He reluctantly looked to Dean as he struggled to make his legs move around him. 

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam and helped him to his feet. When they finally stood together, Dean felt like he was going to collapse. Sam wasn't too heavy, but he was pure muscle and Dean was weak from his fever. His body ached as he tried to haul Sam forward. 

They were halfway there when Dean suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Sam was about to ask what was wrong when Dean lifted a finger and pressed his nose against the back of his wrist and snorted deeply before he pitched slightly forward, but careful enough not to drop Sam in the process.

"Huh'TcSHshSHew! Huh'ItHcsHSHew! Huh'TCSHSHew!"

Sam felt Dean tense under him and Sam waned to say something to his brother before Dean continued forward again. Sam forced his legs to move as he dragged himself forward toward the bathroom. He was more dreading when they actually arrived.

Dean struggled to open the door before he finally gave up and just kicked the corner of it. The door swung open and he smiled to himself. He turned to Sam and forced him the rest of the way in. Dean started to feel slightly uncomfortable and he couldn't help but shy slightly away. 

"Um, Sam....can you uh take it um from here," Dean stammered around the woods.

Sam looked down before he quickly shied away from his brother. "I'm fine, Dean!"

"Well, you're the one who needed help to the bathroom so don't tell me that you're fine," chided Dean with a slight narrowing of his eyes. He turned away from Sam and looked at the the door. "Just go and I'll stand at the door with my back to you."

"Dean," whined Sam. 

"It's just a precaution is all. I won't watch, I promise," Dean told him as he slowly eased himself away from his brother and felt Sam's body nearly fall into him.

Sam screwed up his face as he hurriedly did his business as quickly as possible and flushed the toilet. He stumbled over to wash his hands and that's when Dean knew how much that tiny trip took out of his once energetic brother.

Sam was panting hard and sweat collected on his face. His eyes were round and he struggled to keep drawing in breaths without coughing. He suddenly spat in the sink, bringing up crimson blood that rolled down toward the sink's drain.

"Come on. Let's get you back to bed," Dean chided as he continued to drag Sam forward, breaking his attention he was placing on the now pinkish sink drain. 

"You too," Sam managed to croak as he bowed his head and let out a few defeated coughs with his back slightly arching with the effort. 

Dean watched small specks of blood fall on the ground. He ignored it as he pulled Sam a little faster so that they could get him laying down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're sick," Sam choked out with his breath sounding like it came from a straw. "You sound sick."

"Well, I'm just tired and maybe that's it because I'm not sick," retorted Dean matter-of-factly as he slightly turned up his nose at his brother. He was going to be damned if he let Sam find out just how terrible he really felt.

"Whatever," Sam flashed with an undertone of pure sarcasm. Dean could almost admire his brother that he still had that, almost.

They finally made it to Sam's room and Dean nearly threw him on the bed. Sam sunk into it before he lifted his hand to his mouth and coughed painfully. He looked down at his hand, which leaked blood through his fingers. "Bucket, now!"

Dean immediately grabbed the trash and placed it in front of Sam. Sam gagged a few times before he finally coughed. He brought up an unbelievable amount of blood that splattered and pooled in the bucket. If Dean didn't know better then he would think that he was vomiting blood. 

This blood was much darker than before. It was almost brownish with hints of red. At the end he brought up more red blood that came in stringing mucus strands that stuck to his mouth when he tried to cough. He had a good bit in the back of his throat that he kept trying to bring up to absolutely no avail. Frustration clawed at him as he continued to cough and spit. 

"Okay, Sammy, that's enough," Dean chided once he knew that Sam was only forcing it now.

Sam shook his head desperately. "It's in my throat," he argued as he opened his mouth as if to show Dean. "It hurts. It need out! It needs out!" 

Dean sensed and understood Sam's anger and frustration. He would be in a pretty sour mood too if he was continuously coughing up blood. He tried to push that aside as he dragged the blood bucket from his brother and handed him some water.

"Here, chase it down," Dean instructed. 

Sam took it reluctantly. He brought it to his lips and took a few sips before he made a face and handed it back. "Disgusting," he spat as he recoiled. 

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know, kiddo. We're going to get through this. You just have to be patient is all."

"Easy for you to say! You're not coughing up blood and can't even go to the bathroom on your own," Sam muttered under his breath. 

Dean opened his mouth to argue when he instantly screwed his face up. He raised one finger to Sam before he pivoted around on his heels to drill his face into his waiting and raised elbow. 

"Huh'TcHSShsSH! ItcsHsHsSHew! Huh'TchssShew!"

"Bless," Sam murmured, a little less angry. 

Dean sniffed heavily since he didn't have any tissues on him. "Ub, thank you."

Sam scooted over on the bed suddenly and patted the spot beside him. Dean just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Stay with me," requested Sam with his eyes slightly downcast as if he couldn't believe that he was actually requesting it himself.

Dean was even more surprised. He rubbed his sleeve against his dripping nose and coughed to clear his throat. "What," he questioned. 

"You heard me. I want you to stay with me. That way I know that you're resting too," croaked Sam as he fixed his brother with a pleading glacé.

"Sammy, I don't think that this is a good idea," argued Dean with a shake of his head. "I don't want to get you sick and this is one hell of a cold."

"Don't care," Sam replied as he rolled onto his side and let out a whimper of pain as he coughed, heaving each breath as if it was his last.

It pulled at Dean's heartstrings. He was always an emotional wreck when he was sick. There was no way that he could leave Sam when he was this pathetic. Dean muttered something unintelligible to himself before he kicked off his shoes and started to sink into the bed beside Sam. 

Sam turned around expectantly and rested his head on Dean's shoulder so that he was slightly propped up. He breathed loudly through his mouth and nodded slowly. "Thanks, Dean."

"Don't mention it, kiddo. Just remember this when you get sick," Dean flashed, yet there was no real anger in his voice, just absent concern. 

Sam didn't care much. He was technically already sick. How much worse could it possibly get? That's why he bowed his head against his brother and took in a few heavy breaths before he finally seemed to drift off and this time there was no open mouthed breathing or strange pauses to either gasp or swallow around the blood in his throat. 

It eased Dean's worry a little, but not completely. He kept hearing what Sam had told him about continuing the Trials and shit. They had to keep going or Sam would die. Dean knew this, he just didn't like to admit it. That was why Dean was going to let Sam keep going for as long as he could. 

He just prayed that it wouldn't up his killing the one good thing that he had in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading. I hope you all enjoyed and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
